If my heart was a house, you'd be home
by Eienvine
Summary: How a general and her voice become something more than comrades-in-arms. iPod shuffle drabbles.


AN: I wanted there to be more Gremaya fics out there, so I figured I might as well write one! And then I decided to go old school and do a shuffle drabble. Is that still a thing? I haven't seen many lately. If not, let's bring it back.

If you're not familiar with the idea, you put your music on shuffle (I went all the way and dug an old MP3 player out of a drawer, in honor of the days when this was an iPod thing) and write a drabble for each song that comes up (I may have skipped some). I went real traditional here: these are true drabbles, 100 words each.

Because I wrote these in the order they came up on my MP3 player, they are not written in any kind of chronological order. I've written a ton of these over the last week, so I will probably post more pretty soon.

. . . . . .

**_Two Atoms in a Molecule, _****Noah and the Whale**

_Last night I had a dream we were inseparably combined _  
_Like a piece of rope made out of two pieces of vine . . . _  
_Then I awoke from the dream to realize I was alone  
A tragic event, I must admit, but let's not be overblown_

. . . . . .

He nearly makes it through the visit before his mother brings it up.

_Darling, _she signs gently, _when will you settle down? _

He forces a smile. _Protecting Katolis is more important. _

Because it's true.

And because how could he tell her the rest of it?

How could he admit he lost his heart years ago to a spine of steel and a heart of gold? How could he say that marrying his commanding officer is impossible, but marrying someone else is even more so?

But then his mother gives him that sympathetic smile, and he suspects that she already knows.

. . . . . .

**_After the Storm, _****Mumford and Sons**

_And I took you by the hand, and we stood tall, _  
_And remembered our own land, what we lived for _  
_But there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears _  
_And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears_

. . . . . .

When it's all over, when soldiers on both sides are gathering the wounded and dead, he walks out in the rain and finds her staring over the battlefield with eyes both relieved and confused.

_It's over,_ she signs.

_Finally, _he agrees.

Her concerned look doesn't fade.

_What? _he asks.

She hesitates. Then,_ This war has been my life for fifteen years; I hardly remember peace. _She turns a pained expression on him. _What do we do now? _

This he knows the answer to, and he takes her hand in his; with his free hand, he answers simply: _Now we live. _

. . . . . .

_**All My Mistakes,**_**The Avett Brothers**

_I made decisions, some right and some wrong . . . _  
_These things and more I wish I had not done _  
_But I can't go back, and I don't want to _  
_'Cause all my mistakes have brought me to you_

. . . . . .

It's depressing, how familiar it's become to be woken by nightmares. Perhaps if she'd been the sort of general who stays where it's safe—but that's not who she is.

So she goes to the window and watches the city. Her Katolis, safe and peaceful in the night, because of her and her soldiers and their sacrifices: that's worth it.

Arms wrap around her from behind, and she smiles, reflecting that she wouldn't have met him if they hadn't both been soldiers, and that's worth it too.

So no, she wouldn't change the choices she's made, even if she could.

. . . . . .

**_Birken Street,_**** Peter Breinholt**

_Did you see that girl? This may be something _  
_I don't know, but I've seen her before _  
_Maybe she will notice and maybe she will talk to me _  
_And maybe, well I don't know_

. . . . . .

Of course he's heard of Commander Amaya; who hasn't? The great war hero, Katolis' brightest hope to stave off Xadian invaders?

But no one told him that she's so young; only 25 or 26 years old, to his 18. Makes sense, as her sister the queen is only 28, but somehow he's always pictured her older.

And no one told him that she's most beautiful woman in Katolis.

Then, unexpectedly, she starts signing—just like his beloved mother, and suddenly this fierce warrior queen feels a little bit like home.

Gren never entirely belongs to himself after that first encounter.

. . . . . .

**_Brand New Colony,_**** Postal Service**

_I'll be the fire escape that's bolted to the ancient brick _  
_Where you will sit and contemplate your day . . . _  
_I'll be the phonograph that plays your favorite _  
_Albums back as you're lying there drifting off to sleep_

. . . . . .

He doesn't know when he stopped being just her interpreter, and started being her . . . everything, really.

Maybe when Sarai died, and he stayed with Amaya by her sister's body for hours. Maybe when she nearly fell in battle, and he sat by her for two days so she wouldn't awake alone.

He doesn't know. What he knows is that Amaya props up the army—the whole country, really—and sometimes people forget she's only one person, and she gets tired and hurt just like anyone.

So. Amaya supports Katolis. And Gren supports Amaya. And together they manage to stay standing.

. . . . . .

**_Broken Headlights, _****Milk Carton Kids**

_Maybe it'll bring the hillside down, maybe it'll flood the streets _  
_Maybe when I tell you that I want you forever I'm gonna make a fool of me _  
_But I've got the windows down, the heater on my feet and the skies are opening _  
_It's gonna come pouring down, it's gonna come pouring out, I'm gonna say everything_

. . . . . .

_What? _

Gren blinks in surprise.

_You were staring, _Amaya explains.

Heat touches his face. And for a brief moment, he thinks about it; he thinks about lifting his arms for those three little words that rattle through his chest every time he touches her, sees her, thinks of her—

But this is his best friend, his commanding officer, his hero, and he'd far rather spend the rest of his life being only her friend than risk frightening her off with unwanted declarations.

_Just thinking about paperwork, _he lies cheerfully.

She doesn't look convinced. But it's all he can give her.

. . . . . .

**_Fix You, _****Coldplay**

_Tears stream down your face _  
_When you lose something you cannot replace . . . _  
_And I will try to fix you_

. . . . . .

Amaya finds Gren on the wall after the battle; when she touches his shoulder, he jumps and scrubs at the tears on his face.

And her heart aches. He's so dedicated, so driven, so efficient, that sometimes she forgets her interpreter is only nineteen: just a boy, really, fresh from his first real battle.

He forms a fist, ready to sign _Sorry, _but she grabs his hand and holds it tightly. He tenses, then relaxes all at once, and she turns away to let him collect himself.

And they stand hand in hand, gazing at the sunset, until evening falls.

. . . . . .

**_Call My Name, _****Peter Breinholt**

_Here she comes and I think I'm seeing stars again _  
_So take your time; what a crazy way to find a friend _  
_That's very kind of you; I spend all my time with you _  
_Never stop to wonder why I'm always on your side_

. . . . . .

"You're awfully dedicated to my sister," Sarai says innocently.

Gren blanches. He's tried to keep his connection to Amaya professional, but it's hard; she's fascinating and extraordinary, and he cannot pull himself out of her orbit. And if Sarai's noticed—

But she just laughs. "I'm glad she has you," she says, then hesitates. "My sister is fanatically devoted to the military," she says, both a warning and a plea. "She'll never put . . . _personal _desires before duty, even for her own health and happiness." She gives him a pointed look. "Not without help."

Gren stares. Did the queen just—

Sarai grins.

. . . . . .

**_Everybody's Changing,_**** Keane**

_Trying to make a move just to stay in the game _  
_I try to stay awake and remember my name _  
_But everybody's changing and I don't feel the same_

. . . . . .

The atmosphere is charged in the throne room, and Amaya's never felt so tense in her late sister's home. It's the stiff postures, the unspoken words; Viren has grown hard of late, Harrow more desperate, Opeli more weary.

And she knows she's not the bright idealist she once was. War takes its toll on all.

But some bear it better than others, and when the meeting's over, she looks at her faithful interpreter, her sunshine on a dark day, and she can't help pulling him into an embrace.

_Why? _he signs, surprised.

And she smiles. _Thank you . . . for being you. _

. . . . . .

**_Future Self, _****Faded Paper Figures**

_When we try to comply with no thought for our lives _  
_Are we courageous? Or are we contagious? _  
_Our future selves are free; your future self will love me _  
_Our future eyes will see; your future self will love me_

. . . . . .

Imagine two soldiers, a general and a commander.

Imagine the general has dedicated herself wholly to her country. Imagine the commander has dedicated himself wholly to his general.

Imagine lives so full of duty as to leave no room for anything else. Imagine a professional connection shifting to a personal one; imagine obligation becoming friendship becoming more. Imagine wishes and desires pushed aside; imagine hidden glances disguised as casual looks.

Imagine the loneliness.

Now imagine what the future could be, when this war gives them a moment to breathe.

But only imagine. Because for now, imagining's all they can do.

. . . . . .


End file.
